Lukewarm
by K9Lasko
Summary: The future's looking bright.


**Title:** Lukewarm  
**Summary:** The future's looking pretty fucking bright.  
**Rating:** FR13; 1,313 words.  
**Genre:** Lit Fic Short, Drama, Angst, Future Post-Series  
**Characters:** Tony/Ziva, Gibbs, McGee (mention)

**Author's Notes:** It's only Tiva if you consider a train wreck an acceptable vacation event. If you're confused, read more carefully.

**LUKEWARM**

**I.**

They sit at opposite ends of a small table. It's sprinkled with muffin crumbs. There's an orphaned napkin, barely touched.

Tony says, "Been a long time, boss."

"Yep," Gibbs nods. It's noncommittal and calm. Serene, almost. He lifts his coffee to his lips, takes a gulp. It won't matter how much it scalds; he doesn't feel it anymore. He's staring off at something, staring through the window at the busy road outside.

_They sit at opposite ends of a small table. It's sprinkled with the stale crumbs of a scone. There's an orphaned napkin, nearly torn in two._

_Ziva says, "I have missed you, Gibbs."_

"_Yep." Gibbs has to agree; he's missed her, too. She is like a daughter to him, and they've been apart for much too long. He sips at his coffee. Content._

**II.**

Tony doesn't drink his coffee. He plays with it, moves it one inch to the left, then two inches to the right. He moves it in a circle, picks at the cardboard sleeve. If he stalls, this simple outing for coffee will last. He wants it to last. So he asks, "You still retired?"

"Yep."

"For real this time?" Tony is smiling. He wants a reaction. Something. Anything.

"Yes, for real. I'm old, DiNozzo." Gibbs finally looks his way, takes another gulp. "Retired a long time ago."

Tony knows what Gibbs is seeing right now. Hair graying, gently but not exactly subtly. Facial lines deepening into canyons. A little heavier. Tony's smile turns inwards. Apparently, growing older is easier than it seems; it just happens.

_"I see you have not quit retirement yet," Ziva jokes. She has aged, gracefully for the most part, but her eyes still spark with mischief._

"_The pension is nice," Gibbs has to shrug. He then looks downwards, lips pulling into a blunt smile, "And who is this?"_

"_Our little Ezekiel, of course," Ziva says. She then nudges the eight-year-old boy who blushes and looks back down at whatever iThing he'd brought along. "Don't you remember Gibbs?" She urges. The boy says nothing, although he does nod, albeit bashfully. Ziva smiles and apologizes, "Seems he is having a shy phase; he certainly did not inherit that from Tony."_

"_Nothing wrong with being quiet," Gibbs assures the boy._

**III.**

Tony tries again, "So, McGee's got his own team now. Probie's got a flock of probies."

"Yep. I know." Gibbs looks back towards the window.

"You talk to him, then?" Tony lifts the coffee, but only to sniff. It's warm and heady. Rich like black soil. He's cut back on the creamer, much to his own chagrin.

"All the time," Gibbs smiles. "He's married now. Got a little one. A girl."

"I know." Tony can't help but sound annoyed, so he mimics Gibbs. "We got the invitation for the wedding, but I couldn't make it. Work and all. Apparently drug interdiction doesn't take a vacation." Tony is sour, like a wet dishrag kept all bound up.

_They sit in companionable silence. Gibbs has a coffee, black and thin. Ziva has a latte, creamy and thick with foam. Ezekiel has a hot chocolate, which he has yet to touch. They listen to the coffee shop noise around them; they are in no rush, and it seems as though they are happiest while completely silent._

**IV.**

"Ziva was there," Gibbs states.

Tony shrugs. "Yeah, well, when does Ziva not do what she likes?"

_Ziva is the first to break. "When was the last time we saw each other? Tim's wedding?"_

"_Yep. Too bad DiNozzo couldn't show."_

_Ziva shrugs. "When does Tony do what you'd like him to do?"_

**V.**

"How is she doing?" Gibbs takes yet another gulp. His cup has to be running near empty.

Tony wonders if Gibbs is drinking that fast on purpose. He frowns and says, "She's good." In truth, he doesn't want to talk about Ziva, but he does anyway. She's that "special something" in his life. Something that's been hard to keep a grasp on. Something evasive and mercurial. "Keeps herself busy, mostly. She's made a few friends. She doesn't like Newark." He pauses. "_I_ don't like Newark."

Gibbs says nothing. He only nods, as if he understands in some distant way. Tony had seen that same nod the day he'd announced his new job with the DEA. _"You sure about that, DiNozzo?"_ had been Gibbs' exact words.

_"How's he doing?" Gibbs is curious._

_She doesn't want to talk about Tony, but she does anyway. "He is fine. Keeps himself busy; works a lot. He loves to spoil Ezekiel." Ziva stops. Tony has been her "one constant" for years now. He's a great father to her little boy. He's sweet, affectionate, loyal._

**VI.**

Tony changes the subject. "You know Zeke's already eight years old now?" Tony glances down at his paper cup and smiles the smile of an awestruck father. "He's a great kid. He wants the iThis and the iThat."

"At eight years old?" Gibbs furrows his brow.

Tony laughs easily. "Yeah. Kids these days. He knows how to use all of them, too. I think he's smarter than me already. Check this out-" He then says, digging an expensive cell phone out of the pocket of his jeans. He prods it to life while leaning almost halfway across the table, and angles the screen towards Gibbs. Tony makes sure he's looking.

Gibbs squints a bit. He's still blind as a bat at close range. "He's got his mother's eyes."

Tony grins. "He does."

"Who's the dog?"

"That's Pogo."

The dog looks like a bizarre mix of Labrador, greyhound, German shepherd, and pit bull. It has brindle fur, a long slender face, radar ears, plate-sized paws and dark soulful eyes. The animal looks loved, with its clean coat, happy dog smile, and blue bandana emblazoned with "The Squirrelinator."

"Zeke's been asking for a dog," Tony admits. "I've never had one. I thought it would be fun."

Gibbs blinks coolly. "Is it?"

"Yeah, sure." Tony flips through a few more pictures absent-mindedly. The dog is strangely beautiful, sylphlike yet muscular. It's chasing a ball. It's chewing a bone. It's being hugged by a child. It's lying on the living room rug.

_"He got Ezekiel a dog," Ziva says with a poorly disguised wince._

"_His name is Pogo," the boy finally speaks, looking up. Despite his show of introversion, Ezekiel has an easy and confident tone. "See?" He reveals a picture of the brindle mutt, enlarged to fit the screen of the iPad._

_Holding her latte to her face, Ziva admits, "I am not much of a dog person."_

**VII.**

Tony watches Gibbs. "I think he's pretty great."

"Your dog or your kid, DiNozzo?" Gibbs snorts in good humor. He drains the last dregs of his coffee and sets the empty cup on the table with a "thup."

"Both."

"And Ziva?"

Tony chuckles and answers, "Well, I married her, boss."

_They've been set adrift like icebergs. Inching apart, never closer._

_Ziva cannot tell who they are anymore, or where they're going, or why._

**VIII.**

He observes as Gibbs moves the cup to the periphery of the table and then reaches for his coat. He throws caution in front of a bus by blurting, "She's moving out, and she's taking Zeke with her."

_"I am leaving him, Gibbs," she says. Her fingers tap the rim of her latte, already lukewarm. "And I'm bringing Ezekiel back to DC with me." _

Gibbs pauses. He's got one hand on the table while the other one is inches from his coat.

"Original, right?" Tony shakes his head, at a sudden loss. "A real shocker."

**IX.**

Gibbs has already left. He's off to build something new out of wood. That's good for him. With a grimace, Tony thinks about taking a sip of his coffee. It must be lukewarm by now.

So he does.

And it is.


End file.
